A/N: One-shot. Story is self-contained. But if you want to know some of the back story about how Gibbs became a PI and how he and E.J. got together, checkout, "A New Set of Rules." In this story I'm trying to work on writing and describing action sequences. This one was fun to write. Enjoy. Please R & R. Critiques always welcomed. Thanks. Disclaimer: I own nothing, no profit or gain.
He heard the silenced pops from the pistols behind him as angry bullets whizzed past his head. They exploded into the hallway wall ahead of him, sending a shower of sheetrock dust down onto the small woman running in front of him. She rounded the hallway corner, turned, grabbed his jacket and jerked him around, just as two more bullets shattered the wall where he had been a hair's breadth ago. Her strength amplified his momentum, sending him sprawling past her onto the floor.
"Ow!" he complained. "Damn, Erica!"
"Shhhh!" She shot him a glare.
She crouched against the wall, her 40 caliber Sig-Sauer in hand, listening intently, not risking a peak around the corner for fear of a repeat visit by their assailants' unwelcomed bullets.
He quickly rose, positioning himself behind her, bringing his Glock nine millimeter pistol into a ready position. Listening intently he heard nothing. The pursuit had ended, at least for the moment. But he was unsure if their attackers had left or only stopped at the other end of the hallway, hiding behind a corner, waiting for a careless head to pop out so they could resume their target practice.
Well, at least they're lousy shots, he thought.
"Here, Jethro," she handed him her phone. "Distress code - It's still the same." She turned her attention back to listen for their attackers.
Understanding her instructions he punched in the code knowing the agent in distress signal would reach the NCIS MTAC communications hub, resulting in their position being tracked by satellite and communicated to the nearest agents. He hated to admit it, but he had underestimated this case and was glad that back-up was on the way.
A few moments later her phone rang. He flipped it open. "Gibbs," he barked into it.
"Boss?" Tony DiNozzo's surprised voice crackled in his ear. "Er, ah, sorry ... I mean, Gibbs. Where's E.J.? Are you guys in trouble?"
"Ya think, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, a hint of annoyance in his tense voice. "Barrett's right here. We're kinda being shot at, DiNozzo. Would sure like you to join the party."
E.J. snorted. "Tell him to get his ass down here, now!" she snapped at Gibbs.
"You hear that?" Gibbs asked.
"Yeah, got it! Ziva and I are close. Should be there in 10 minutes," Tony said.
"Hurry-up DiNozzo." Gibbs ended the call.
"OK, munchkin, now what?" he whispered to E.J..
She glared back at him for an instant. Turning her attention back to the hallway she let out a menacing growl, "You're gonna pay for that munchkin crack, old man."
He grinned at the back of her head. He was looking forward to when she would exact her revenge.
He knew from his training that in combat situations like this, time slowed and senses heightened. Yet, despite all the times he had experienced the phenomena it still unnerved him. And right now his hyper-attuned senses were dangerously distracted by the woman in front of him.
As she crouched, her mauve colored blouse snuck up her back the tiniest bit, allowing a narrow band of creamy smooth skin - shimmering with a thin sheen of perspiration - to peak through just above the top of her dark slacks. Her petite waist flared down and out to small but curvy hips which were accentuated by her snug pants. His eyes, now with a will of their own, traveled down, taking in her toned butt and thighs as she sat on her heels. She was – exquisite – he could think of no other word that fit.
As his gaze fondled its way back up her body his attention paused at the handcuff case clipped to a black leather belt over her left hip.
Ah, a woman with her own handcuffs, he smirked to himself, what more could a man want.
The sight of her handcuffs dragged him out of his reverie, his focus returning to their present danger.
He inventoried their surroundings. Behind them, near the end of the short hallway they had ducked into, was a door with an exit sign mounted to the wall above it.
"Stay here," he whispered. There's an exit at the end of the hallway. It might be a stairwell and a way out."
She glanced back at him and nodded.
He ran the thirty feet to the end of the hallway and opened the door. He was right, it was a stairwell. Smiling with a tinge of relief he stepped out onto the landing. Hearing labored breathing several landings below he cautiously peered over the stairwell railing. Looking down his eyes met those of the first of two burly men, panting as they moved quickly up the stairs. The man shouted, alerting his partner to Gibbs' presence in the stairwell. Both men pointed pistols and fired several shots, bullets zipping through the space that Gibbs had occupied a moment before.
He ducked back from the railing, momentarily out of their line of fire. Two more gun wielding assailants moving up on his and E.J.'s rear position was a serious problem. His mind raced, considering his options.
He quickly poked his Glock over the railing, sending a flurry of rapid shots downward, spattering concrete off the walls. He knew it was unlikely he would hit either man in the crooked confines of the stairwell, but he had to slow them down, needing precious time to put his new plan into action. His bullets did the trick as the two men dashed back down one landing and took cover under the stairs.
Gibbs crashed through the stairwell door into the hallway. He saw E.J., leaning around the corner continuing to send sporadic shots down the corridor as a message to their pursuers to stay put. Running toward her he saw the relief on her face. She had obviously heard the shots in the stairwell.
"Two men … Stairwell." His breathing was heavy.
As E.J.'s expression turned serious he knew she understand the danger of their tactical dilemma.
They were at an intersection, like a crossroads. Around the corner to their left, down the corridor just past a similar intersection, their original pursuers – he thought there were probably two - peered out from behind the hallway corner, just as E.J. did now. Moving in that direction was obviously suicide.
Around the corner to their right the corridor continued with no cover, providing their pursuers with a clear line of fire. Moving in that direction they would be picked-off as easy as tin targets in a carnival shooting arcade.
The space behind them would soon become a kill zone when the two men he had momentarily delayed regained their courage and opened fire on them from behind the cover offered by the stairwell door.
He looked past E.J. across the intersection to the opposite corridor - their only way out. He caught her eyes and flipped his head toward their escape route. She nodded her understanding.
Gibbs leaned down and whispered in her ear, "You first. I'll lay cover fire."
E.J. nodded again.
"On three," he said.
E.J. stepped back, changing positions with Gibbs. She crouched down, ready to sprint across the open space to the cover of the hallway across from them. Gibbs moved to his knees, readied his pistol and began counting, his voice hissing out the numbers.
"One …, two ...," He leaned out past the corner of the hallway, almost lying on the floor, gripping his Glock with both hands, pulling the trigger. "Three!"
As Gibbs popped-off a salvo of cover fire E.J. bolted forward, like a sprinter exploding from a starting block.
Staccato shots from silenced pistols rang out from down the hall followed by a string of curses. It was obvious their pursuers were angry at being caught-off guard by E.J.'s escape.
Arriving safely on the other side she turned looking at Gibbs who had pulled back to cover behind the corner. Gibbs heard the voices of the men ascending the stairwell behind him. It was only a matter of seconds before they would cut him down, no chance of survival.
He caught E.J.'s attention. She was positioned to provide cover fire. Gibbs crouched down, ready to run, aware the danger of his crossing was now infinitely greater because the angry shooters down the hall would not be caught off-guard again.
The distance separating E.J. and himself seemed immense, a chasm no human could possibly cross. But he had to get to her. He could not let her go on alone. For one frozen instant his eyes locked with hers, her face earnest and longing. She mouthed the words, 'I love you.' He forced a reassuring smiled and nodded.
Holding up his hand Gibbs started the silent count-down with his fingers. 'One …, Two …,' Just before he popped up his third finger E.J. dropped to the floor, curled around the corner and unleashed a flurry of bullets. Gibbs streaked across the hall.
This time the gunmen were ready and returned fire, the sound of lead smacking the walls filled the air.
E.J. turned and looked up frantically at Gibbs searching his body for blood. He gave her a thumbs-up and she let out a sigh of relief.
As she pulled back from the corner she ejected the empty magazine from her Sig, slapped her spare in its place and released the lock allowing the slide to slam forward, pushing a fresh round into the chamber.
Gibbs pointed to the corridor they had just vacated. "Guys coming up the stairwell," he said, knowing they were not yet safe. "Let's move."
She jumped to her feet. With Gibbs on the right and E.J. on the left they moved down the hallway with unspoken efficiency, seeking an unlocked door that would offer them refuge from the firestorm soon to come. At her third door E.J. felt the handle turn. "Jethro," she shouted. Gibbs ducked into the room right behind her just as bullets splintered the edge of the door frame.
Inside the room their eyes met for the space of a heart-beat. Their faces mirrored each other's anger, knowing each other's thoughts. He nodded back toward the door. As years of training and experience kicked-in no words were needed, their actions flowing together effortlessly as he went high and she went low. Popping-out from behind the door jamb their pistol muzzles flashed sending a wall of bullets with their message of anger. One unlucky gunman went down, their message delivered.
They ducked back inside.
"That should hold them off for a few minutes," E.J., spat.
Gibbs surveyed their surroundings. "What is this place?" he asked, as they ran to the far side of the spacious room. Large, thick, free standing workbenches stood throughout the room, like islands in a tropical bay, each with a laminate counter top and drawers and cabinets on both front and back.
"It looks like a Chemistry lab," E.J. replied. "You said your client was a Chemistry professor. And this is the university's Chemistry building."
For an instant Gibbs flashed back to 15 minutes earlier as he and E.J. stood in the professor's office door, shocked to find his body on the floor and four surly men startled by their unannounced entry. As guns were drawn Gibbs pulled E.J. out of the doorway a split-second before several bullets passed through the space where she had been standing. He pushed her in front of him as they ran, each squeezing off frantic shots back down the hallway.
Her voice jerked him back to the present.
"Here," E.J. pointed at a workbench as they reached the side of the room furthest from the door, "this is good cover."
He followed her, dropping down behind their island refuge.
They sat, backs against the cabinet doors, forcing their breathing to slow, trying to catch their wits. Running on auto-pilot E.J. dropped the magazine from her Sig, checking the number of remaining rounds.
"How many?" Gibbs asked.
"Seven and one in the pipe," she said, slamming the magazine back in the gun. "You?"
"I'm out," he replied
E.J. glanced over at him. As he sat there doing nothing she turned her full attention to him. "Hurry up and reload."
"Told ya, I'm out," he said.
"No spare clip?" she asked, surprised.
"I'm not a damn agent any more Erica. I'm a private investigator. Hell, I hardly ever carry this thing. Didn't think I needed to lug around another clip."
"No Backup?" She hissed at him.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head.
Her eyes flashed with anger and a touch of fear as she scowled at Gibbs. "Remind me to slap some sense into you when we get home tonight."
He shrugged and frowned.
"Here. Take mine." She reached down and pulled a five shot, 38 caliber, snub-nosed Smith and Wesson revolver from her ankle holster, handing it to Gibbs. He returned his Glock to its holster and took the revolver.
"Where the hell are DiNozzo and David?" she pressed out between her lips.
As if on cue her phone rang, DiNozzo's name on the caller ID.
"DiNozzo," her voice was hushed but harsh, "where the hell are you?"
"We got stuck … behind a huge … traffic accident," Tony said, gasping for air. "Had to … bail-out of … the car. We're … on foot." She could tell he was running as he spoke.
"Moving as fast … as we can. About … five blocks … out," he finished.
"Copy," E.J. said, her voice faltering. "When you reach our coordinates go to the fourth floor."
"Tony," she said, looking at Gibbs, "be careful." She ended the call.
Gibbs heard the conversation and could tell she knew, as did he, that this battle would be over before Tony and Ziva could cover the remaining distance. Their eyes meet and he reached out and took her hand in his.
At that moment someone sneezed in the hallway just outside the lab door. A curse followed, aimed at the offender who had broken the silence.
Gibbs caught E.J.'s glance and nodded. They rose from behind the island taking aim at the door just as the three remaining gunmen burst through, blasting bullets in their direction.
E.J.'s Sig sent a rapid volley toward the onslaught; spitting fire and death as one gunman dropped to floor, blood pouring out of the bullet hole in his chest.
Struggling to grip the small revolver, Gibbs emptied all five rounds; one bullet finding its mark in the shoulder of one of the two remaining gunmen.
Both the unscathed man and his wounded partner dropped behind one of the workbenches halfway across the room.
In one tick of the clock on the wall behind them, Gibbs and E.J. dropped back down behind the cover of their island. Gibbs saw the slide on E.J.'s Sig was locked open, her gun empty. He dropped the revolver which signaled to her it was empty too.
In the next tick of the clock he was surprised at the lack of fire coming from their attackers. Then he heard the familiar sound of a semi-automatic pistol magazine being ejected and dropping to the floor. E.J's expression told him she heard it too.
At the third tick of the clock E.J. popped the release on her Sig, the slide slamming forward on an empty chamber, the hammer cocked. She shot Gibbs a look and pointed to his Glock. In an instant he knew her plan. It was crazy, but the only option they had left. Without hesitation he drew his pistol and bolted out from around the right side of their lab table while E.J. launched herself around the left, both running down their aisles toward the workbench sheltering their attackers.
Rounding the corners on each side of the workbench they brought their empty weapons to bear on both men who were frantically trying to reload their pistols.
"Freeze," the word left both E.J.'s and Gibbs' mouths simultaneously.
Both men's heads snapped up.
Not aware the pistols trained on them were empty the two men placed their guns on the ground and raised their hands. While Gibbs provided cover with his empty Glock, E.J. cuffed the man who had not been shot. Eventually she found a roll of duct tape in one of the lab table drawers and taped the injured man's arms together behind his back.
Once both men were secured Gibbs lowered his Glock and let out a long sigh. He looked over at E.J. and nodded, "Nice work Agent Barrett."
She smiled back, an exhausted look of relief on her face.
A few minutes later Ziva David's voice called frantically from the hallway, "Gibbs! Barrett!"
"Clear!" E.J. shouted back.
Ziva cautiously entered the room, her pistol at the ready, Tony DiNozzo right behind her, both breathing heavily.
"Geeze you guys," Tony frowned as he looked at the carnage in the lab, "it looks worse in here than it does out there! And out there it looks like World War III!"
Ziva rolled her eyes at her partner's typically overly-dramatic comment. She took a quick visual inventory of E.J., then Gibbs. "You are both alright, yes?" she asked.
"We're good," E.J. responded.
At Tony's and Ziva's arrival Gibbs finally relaxed. He looked over at E.J. who was trembling slightly, the fear and adrenalin finally taking their toll on her body. He held out his arms. She walked over and slid softly into his embrace.
"What happened here?," Ziva asked, a look of astonishment on her face. "This is not one of your cases, is it E.J.?"
E.J. looked up from Gibbs' arms and shook her head. "No, not mine. Jethro's."
Both Tony and Ziva turned questioning looks towards there ex-boss.
"Hey! Just driving my girlfriend to work," Gibbs said, with mock indignation. "Decided to run a quick errand on the way and …. it took longer than I expected." The corners of his mouth hinted at a smile.
Ziva looked at Tony, who shrugged and cracked a quirky grin.
"Well," Tony quipped, surveying the damage to the room, "there sure were plenty of bullets to go around."
"Uh-ha," Gibbs acknowledged.
Neither Tony nor Ziva noticed E.J. smirk at Gibbs as she jabbed her elbow into his ribs.
### END ###